The Monster Under Juanita's Bed

THE MONSTER UNDER JUANITA’S BED

“Okay, you can come out now.”

Juanita looked at her closed bedroom door, flopped onto her stomach and leaned over the side of her bed, looking under it.

What she saw was truly hideous. It was a monster. Its body was covered in patchy grey fur with ulcerating pale skin the colour of curdled milk. Its hands were crabbed with grotesque black claws sprouting from the end of its deformed fingers. The feet were cloven hoofs that were split with fungus growing between the cracks. It smelled horrendous — like every bad thing in the world had been mixed together and poured over the creature. The face was the stuff that nightmares were made of — blood-red eyes that glowed in the dark, a smashed in nose that was no more than two nostrils that dripped horrible green slime. Its mouth was an open maw, surrounded by the grotesque lips of a giant bloodsucker. The teeth were brown needles, three rows deep. It had no hair on its head. Instead horrid black-green scales covered its scalp. In places the scales had erupted, leaving oozing open puss-filled sores.

Juanita sat back up on her bed and the monster under the bed slid out. It sat on the pink carpet beside Juanita’s bed. It grew and swelled until it filled the corner. Juanita smiled.

“I never understood how you can fit under the bed when you’re so big.”

The monster shrugged its shoulders.

“It’s a monster thing.”

Juanita nodded her head. 

“So, as I was saying, Juanita, your birthday’s tomorrow. You’re going to be twelve.”

She looked at the monster, confused.

“Yeah, I know. So?”

“Well, we’ve celebrated nine birthdays together — since you turned three.”

“That’s right,” said Juanita cautiously.

“Well,” said the monster, “It’s time.”

Juanita drew in her breath and looked at her monster.

“Time?” she said tentatively. “Time for what.”

“You know what,” said the monster.

Juanita’s eyes filled with tears.

“No, Bob! Don’t say it.”

*****

Juanita had named her monster Bob when she was three. That was the year he first started living under her bed. It was the night of her third birthday. Family and friends, including her buddies from nursery school, had come to her party. There had been a piñata, games, cake, ice cream. It had been wonderful! Her grandma and grandpa had come all the way from Spain! It had been the best day ever!

It was almost eight p.m. when Juanita had finally been sent off to bed. Her mom and dad had tucked her in, and her Grandpa Tito had read her a story. After, when everyone had left her room, she snuggled down into the covers, feeling a bit sleepy. She had just started to doze off when she’d heard a noise under her bed. She’d slid over the edge of her bed and looked under it. That’s when she had first met Bob.

“Hello,” she said. “What are you doing under my bed?”

The monster had looked at her, confused.

“Why aren’t you screaming?” asked the monster.

“Why would I scream?” asked Juanita.

“Because I’m a monster and I’m under your bed.”

Juanita just smiled at him.

“You’re not afraid of me?” the monster asked.

Juanita shook her head no.

“You don’t think I’m scary?”

She shook her head no again.

They looked at each other.

“ROOOOAAARR!” yelled the monster.

Juanita just giggled.

“GGGGRRROOOWWWLL!” shouted the monster.

Juanita giggled again.

The door to Juanita’s bedroom opened, and her mother looked in.

“Juanita why aren’t you in bed?” she asked.

“Just looking under my bed.” She smiled at her mother.

“I thought I heard some noise. Was that you?”

“Not me,” Juanita said, jumping back into her bed and pulling the blankets up under her chin.

“Okay,” said her mother, coming over to the bed to give her another good-night kiss. “Try to get some sleep. You had a very busy day today.”

Juanita’s mother turned and walked out of the room, quietly closing the bedroom door behind her.

Juanita slipped over the side of her bed. The monster was still there.

“I’m Juanita. What’s your name?” she asked.

The monster looked at her, befuddled.

“My name?” he said, baffled. “I don’t think I have one. I’m just The Monster Under The Bed.”

Juanita shook her head. “That’s too long.” She thought a minute. “I’m going to name you Bob.”

The monster thought about it. It would be nice to have a real name, and Bob was a fine name for a monster, especially one that lived under the bed.

“Okay, you can call me Bob.”

After that first meeting, Bob and Juanita became fast friends. Juanita would tell him all about her days at nursery school, then regular school. Bob would tell her what it was like being a monster. 

“Have you always been the monster under the bed?” Juanita had asked Bob when she was six.

“No,” said Bob, shaking his head. “Sometimes I’m the monster in the closet. I’ve been the monster in the basement a couple of times, but I don’t really like it. There are too many spiders. Twice, I was the monster in the attic. That was okay, but it was pretty lonely.”

Juanita nodded sagely.

“I’m glad you’re the monster under my bed.”

Bob smiled. He was glad as well.

When Juanita was eight, Bob confided in her that he really didn’t like scaring little kids, but that was the hand he had been dealt.

“You know, when kids see me, they freak out. I’m so ugly that I give them nightmares.”

Juanita shook her head vehemently.

“Bob!” she said. “You are not ugly! You’re just different. Different doesn’t mean ugly. It just means different! I like the way you look!”

She reached over and gave him a big hug. It was the first hug he had ever had. Bob loved Juanita for that.

When she was ten, a new kid moved into the neighbourhood. He was a bully, and he focussed on Juanita.

After a particularly rough day, Juanita ran into her room, threw herself onto her bed and started to sob.

Bob, who usually only came out at night, crawled out from under the bed, and put his hideous claw on her back and rubbed it gently.

“Juanita,” he said, genuine concern in his voice. “What’s the matter?”

She threw herself into his arms sobbing even harder.

“Gregory, the new boy,” she said between sobs, “he told me I was wimpy and a scaredy cat. He jumped out of a corner at me, and I screamed. He told everybody in our grade that I was a crybaby. Everybody laughed at me.” She started to sob again.

Bob was appalled. Not only was Juanita the bravest girl he knew, she was also the kindest. She did not deserve this terrible treatment.

Bob made up his mind, right then and there. He knew what to do.

Later that night Bob snuck over to Gregory’s house. It was after midnight and Gregory was sound asleep in his bed when Bob crept into his room.

“Gregory,” he said softly, his fetid breath flooding the room. “Wake up, Gregory.”

The boy’s eyelids fluttered and opened. He gasped at the sight of the monster standing over him.

Bob had swelled up to twice his size, filling the entire side of Gregory’s bedroom. So big he couldn’t stand up straight. He bent over Gregory.

“I am Juanita’s monster,” he whispered. “Leave her alone. If you don’t, I. WILL. EAT. YOU.”

Gregory squeezed his eyes shut, his heart hammering in his chest. When he reopened his eyes, the monster was gone.

A few weeks later, Bob and Juanita were talking before she fell asleep. This was their usual routine. Mostly Juanita talked and Bob listened.

“Hey,” asked Bob. “How’re things going with that boy … whatshisname … Gregory?”

“It’s the weirdest thing,” she said. “He doesn’t bother me any more. It’s almost like he’s afraid of me. And all my friends said they were sorry for laughing at me. I told them that I thought it was mean …”

Bob smiled to himself, and listened to Juanita’s tales of grade five.

*****

And now she was going to be twelve. Bob had tried to talk about it before, but Juanita had always changed the subject when Bob brought it up. 

“Juanita, you know it’s time.”

“No!” she said. “It is not time!”

“But it is,” said Bob, gently.

Juanita looked at her monster. 

“Can’t you do something?” she said, looking at Bob. “Like talk to your monster boss, or something? Get them to change it?”

Bob smiled at Juanita. 

“You’re almost grown up, Juanita. You don’t need me any more.”

The tears flowed down Juanita’s cheeks, and dripped onto her hands folded in her lap.

“I do need you, Bob. I’ve always needed you.”

“You’re growing up, Juanita. Grown ups don’t need monsters.”

“But I love you, Bob.”

“And I love you, too,” said Bob, tears stinging his horrific blood-coloured eyes. 

This surprised Bob. He had never cried before — monsters don’t cry. He didn’t even know he had tear ducts.

“Juanita,” he said. “Pretty soon you’re going to be thinking about boys, and doing teenaged girl things. Monsters aren’t part of that world. 

“But I want you as part of that world. You’re my best friend. You’re my monster.”

She started to quietly sob.

“Juanita, it’s just the way it is.” He paused. “Most monsters under the bed frighten kids until the kids don’t believe in monsters anymore. Then the monsters just disappear. But our relationship is different. We’re best friends. So it makes it harder to say goodbye.”

“Won’t you miss me?” she asked.

“With all my heart — if I actually have one” he replied.

They both smiled at the joke. Did monsters have hearts? Bob was pretty sure the answer was yes, because his was breaking.

They were silent for a few moments.

“I don’t want to say goodbye, Bob," said Juanita. 

“I know,” said Bob, wiping his tears away with the back of his mishapened claw. “I don’t want to say goodbye, either. But it’s what we have to do.”

“Oh Bob!”

Juanita continued to cry. Bob humped his grotesque form over to the bed and sat beside her, almost breaking the bedframe with his weight. He gathered Juanita into his oozing arms, and held her tight. She wrapped her arms as far around him as she could, ignoring the cold clammy skin. She hugged him with all her might.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” she said. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

Everyone knows that monsters don’t feel pain. But Bob now knew that it wasn’t true. He felt the pain of losing Juanita in every fibre of his body.

*****

When Juanita woke up the next morning, she felt … different. She didn’t exactly know why, but something was different. It was her birthday, and she should be happy, but she felt as if she’d lost something. 

It was Saturday, and there was no school — she had the entire day to celebrate her birthday. As it turned out, she and her girlfriends had an amazing day. They went to laser tag — Juanita’s team won! They went roller skating — Juanita fell about a million times! After all their adventures they came back to Juanita’s for cake and ice cream, then they watched a movie. After it was all over, and her friends had all gone home, Juanita went up to her room to get ready for bed. She was exhausted. 

Just before she crawled into bed, she felt the urge to look under the bed. And there, right in the middle, was one more gift — a small box, neatly wrapped, maybe four inches tall.

I wonder how that got there, she thought.

She quickly unwrapped the gift, and opened the box. Inside was a little clay figure. She looked at it. It was a monster.

“You’re kinda fun!” she said examining the little guy. It had patchy fur, claws for hands, cloven hoofs for feet, scales on its head. It looked at her with blood-red eyes. Instead of scaring her, the uneasy feeling she’d had all day lifted. 

There was a tiny card down the side of the box. She opened it.

This is the monster under your bed. He will protect you forever.

This weird little monster made her smile. And she felt strangely happy.

Placing the tiny monster on her bedside table, Juanita whispered, “I think I’ll name you Bob.”